


Bruises Like Love

by Leah (Taste_is_Sweet)



Series: All of These Were Made by Me [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: 1980s, Angst, Bingo, Community: hc_bingo, Fist Fights, Friendship/Love, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-18
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-02-17 20:31:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2322230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_is_Sweet/pseuds/Leah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark is nineteen and in love with his best friend Jason. He's almost certain that Jason feels the same.</p><p>But this is the 1980s, and even in liberal Toronto, Ontario, it's not safe to show people who you really are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bruises Like Love

**Author's Note:**

> This story fills the **Purgatory** square of my [Hurt/Comfort Bingo](http://hc-bingo.livejournal.com/) [card](http://taste-is-sweet.livejournal.com/85941.html).
> 
> With huge thanks to [Brumeier](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier), who let me know this story was worth posting, even though it made her sad.

Jason and Mark are outside David's house, waiting for David to sneak out. David's always late, so Jason sits on the curb to wait even though it's November and the concrete is icy and dusted with snow. They're in Lawrence Park where rich people live and not many cars come at night, and in the silence Mark can hear the sound of Jason's leather jacket creaking as he bends his arms. He stretches his long legs out into the street and gestures for Mark to sit down as well.

"It's too cold," Mark says, shaking his head. He jams his hands into pockets of his padded vest, exhaling steam into the air. 

"You should've worn a jacket," Jason says. He grins. "McFly."

"Fuck you," Mark says mildly. He bought the vest last winter, and then _Back to the Future_ came out in July and Jason's been ribbing him about it ever since. Mark's sure Jason doesn't know he wears it because he likes the attention. But it is cold, and pretty soon Mark can't hide his shivering.

"Come here, dumbass," Jason says, because he's noticed. He always notices. He extends his arm and Mark only hesitates a second before he joins him on the sidewalk, leaning against Jason's side with Jason's arm around his back. "Here." Jason yanks on Mark's nearer arm so he can tuck it behind his back under his jacket, but then he hisses and squirms. "Fuck, your hand is freezing." But he holds Mark's arm still when Mark guiltily tries to pull it away.

"Thanks." Mark knows he's blushing because his face suddenly feels warm.

"Next time, wear your fucking jacket," Jason says. He puts his hand on the back of Mark's neck, warming the skin there too. "You're like an ice cube."

Light suddenly bursts out of the large upstairs windows that face the street, and Jason immediately slides away from Mark, far enough that Mark could stretch out his arm and not touch him at all. The cold rushes in where Jason was.

"Fuck," Jason whispers.

Mark nods silently, eyes glued to the upper window. He can hear David and his dad shouting at each other. A minute later David shoves the front door open and stalks to the sidewalk. His head is bent, chin pressed low and angry to the collar of his jacket.

"Let's go." He barely glances at them. 

An upstairs window slides open with a screech, spilling light. David's father leans out. Mark can see David's mother as well, standing behind her husband with one hand clutching her robe and the other pushing hair out of her eyes.

"I hope you have somewhere to sleep tonight, David!" David's father shouts. "You're not coming back here, do you hear me? I don't want to see you again!" 

David turns around and walks backwards long enough to shout "fuck you!" before the window rattles closed.

"Whoa. Sounds serious," Jason says, coming even with David in a few strides. Mark follows a beat afterwards.

"It's bullshit," David says. He pulls a cigarette pack out of his pocket, flips it open and takes a cigarette. He holds the pack for Jason who takes one too. 

"You want one?" Jason asks Mark when David doesn't offer.

"No way," Mark says, shaking his head. "I don't want to die of cancer, thanks."

"Fag," David says.

"Dickhead," Mark says to him.

David turns around again and stops, looming like a bear. "What did you say?"

"He didn't say anything," Jason says while Mark's heart is still crawling up his throat. Jason puts his unlit cigarette in his mouth and uses both his hands to turn David around. "Come on. I want to get downtown before the clubs close, eh?"

David grunts something and shrugs Jason's hands off, but he doesn't stop walking. "It's bullshit," David repeats, talking around the cigarette. "He just likes shooting his mouth off." He fishes in his pocket for his lighter and activates the flame with a violent jerk of his thumb. Mark can see the red patch where David's father hit him in the light from the flame, but he waits for Jason to mention it.

Jason lights his own cigarette first before he puts his hand on David's shoulder to stop him. He tilts his head, examining David's face. "Your dad whale on you again?"

David yanks his head away. "Leave it."

"No, let me see." Jason pulls David under the lamp at the end of the street, then moves David's chin around so that it's visible in the light.

"Hellacious," Jason says it almost admiringly. "You think it'll bruise?"

"I don't know," David says. "It fucking better not." 

"Ah, you'll be fine." Jason pats David on the back and they start walking again. 

Mark walks beside his friends with his hands in his pockets, grateful to be a little warmer now that they're moving. He wishes Jason would talk to him, but Jason's walking on the other side of David, agreeing with him on what a dick his father is.

"So where are we going, anyway?" Mark asks.

"The subway, genius," David says. 

"Leave him alone," Jason says.

David looks at Jason, smiling nastily. "Jason's got a boyfriend," he singsongs.

Jason shoulder checks him hard. "I'm not a fag, dipshit."

"Sure," David says, drawling it out.

"Asshole," Jason says. He slows down so he's walking nearer to Mark. He keeps glancing at him, as if he's waiting for Mark to say something.

Mark doesn't say anything.

The subway is about half-full this time of night, and Mark stands and leans against the pole in front of the seats David and Jason are in. David rubs his chin, presses it to feel for pain, then scowls and looks to the side. Jason leans back and closes his eyes, stretching his feet out until they're nudging Mark's.

Further down the car are two beautiful girls, dressed in short denim mini-skirts and tight t-shirts under their open jackets. They watched Mark and his friends come in, and now they've turned to face each other and are talking and giggling. Mark is pretty sure they think they're being quiet but it's easy to hear what they're saying even with the steady whine and creak of the train. They're agreeing that David's okay and Mark's pretty hot, but that Jason is a _total babe!_ with his blond hair and wide shoulders. Apparently he looks like Emilio Estevez in _The Breakfast Club_ , only taller. The girls decide that they're going to follow Mark and his friends to whatever club they're going to. 

Mark sighs and looks away from them out the window. The close, dark sides of the tunnel streak past, interspersed by flashes of fluorescent light. He wishes that he was going home instead of out tonight. The subway's heated, but he's still cold and he doesn't feel like dancing. He wishes it was just him and Jason in the subway car. He wishes David had snuck out without his parents catching him so he'd be in a better mood, or that he really got his own place the way he said he would when they all graduated high school. Mostly he wishes that David hadn't had his birthday in October. Now that all three of them are nineteen Jason doesn't feel right going out without David anymore.

Mark lowers his eyes from the window until he's looking at Jason's face, which is still tilted upward. Strings of warm blond hair fall over his closed eyes. His eyelashes are a shade darker than his hair, almost gold. Parts of his cheeks are flushed red from the cold or the cigarette. Jason looks like he's sleeping, but then his mouth twitches and he rubs at his nose. His eyes flash open, and Mark and Jason are staring at each other.

Jason smiles and nudges Mark's foot. Mark smiles back.

David looks back and forth between them. "What?"

It's ten-thirty when they join the line stretching from the door of the dance club. The people in front and behind them are talking quietly or shivering; hugging themselves and exhaling gusts of steam.

"Hey, what's the cover tonight?" David asks.

A girl in front of them turns around. "It's ten."

Jason smiles warmly at her. "Thank you."

She smiles back at him. "Maybe I'll see you inside."

Jason's smile spreads into a grin. "Maybe you will." The girl grins as well, and then she sees Mark, who realizes he's been staring at them both. She gives him a small smile and turns away.

"Hey," says David, who's been leaning to the side to see how long the line is, "there's a van up there passing out bottles of water."

"It's too damn cold for water," Jason says. "You getting any?"

"Sure." David shrugs. "Hang on." He trots out of the line. Somewhere up ahead some people are let into the club and everyone shuffles a step or two closer. Jason starts whistling a bit of a tune from one of the songs they're sure to play inside, then turns to Mark and nudges him.

"'Going to be good tonight, eh?" He nods his head sideways so that Mark knows he's referring to the girl in front of them. He raises his eyebrows and grins.

Mark doesn't smile. "I wish you wouldn't do that."

Jason's smile tilts. "Relax, all right? We're partying."

Mark nods and looks down at the pavement. He's cold even with the other people there, and he's started shivering again.

"Fucking hell," Jason says, sounding exasperated. He unzips his jacket and shrugs it off then holds it out to Mark. "Give me your fucking Marty vest already."

Mark shakes his head. "I'm fine," he says. "You're just in a tee-shirt."

"Yeah, and I'm freezing my balls off, so give me your fucking vest."

Mark glares at him but obediently takes off his jacket and puts Jason's on. He's instantly warmer, feeling the heat of Jason's body seep into him like Jason's holding him in his arms.

Jason zips Mark's vest up to his neck, then crosses his arms tight over his chest. He winces with the cold. "If I get pneumonia I'm going to kill you."

"You can have the jacket back," Mark says, already unzipping it.

"Just wear the damn thing, okay?" Jason turns around and cranes his neck to see over the line ahead. "When the hell are they going to start letting people in again, anyway?"

David comes back with one plastic bottle in his hand and one in each pocket of his jacket.

They're just handing 'em out, as many as you want. 'S some kind of promotion, or something. Here." He thrusts one at Mark.

"Thanks," Mark says, surprised. He takes it and has a drink, even though it's so cold it makes his mouth hurt.

"Hey," David says to him, "why are you wearing Jason's jacket?" He looks like he thinks Mark stole it.

"I made him," Jason says easily. "He was shivering like a little girl."

David smirks as he opens his own bottle. "Figures."

The dance club is a long rectangle, with a large stage at one end for the occasional live bands. The music is so loud that Mark feels it more than hears it: a heavy pounding deep inside his bones. The club is packed tonight and hot enough with all the people and their breathing that the walls glisten with condensation. Mark gives Jason's jacket to the coat-check girl gratefully, so warm now that he's on the verge of uncomfortable. He looks at Jason, and Jason grins so widely at him that Mark can't help smiling back.

Jason pushes the vest along the counter into his hands. "You're paying for it."

Mark just laughs.

Jason takes the lead as they work their way through the crowd that circles the dance floor to join the crush by the bar. Jason shouts his order and slaps a few bills onto the bar. The bartender nods curtly, scoops up the money then places a bottle of beer in front of him. Jason grabs it and moves aside to give David room, but the bartender has gone to the other end of the bar again. David starts kicking his foot against it like an impatient child. Mark doesn't like dancing much, but he knows that both Jason and David will want to and Jason will just drag Mark with them if he refuses. But there's no way Mark's going to go onto the dance floor unless he's buzzed, at least. 

"Cougar," David says when the bartender finally comes back.

"How can you drink that shit?" Mark hears Jason ask David behind him, but not what David answers. He knows it's because it's cheap. David gets no money from his parents and would refuse it if they offered it to him. 

Mark orders a B52 and three beers. He downs the shooter immediately and then takes a swig of the first beer before the bartender has given him change. Mark pushes one over to Jason, and Jason grins and fluffs Mark's hair.

They stand at the edge of the dance floor for a while, drinking and watching the crowd. The lights are so low that it's hard to make out any colors in the darkness, and for a moment Mark thinks that the dancers look like one grey mass, like water rippling in every direction. He thinks it's beautiful, somehow, all those people moving together. He wants to lean over and shout this into Jason's ear. He doesn't because of David.

Mark starts on his second bottle, feeling oddly alone even though Jason and David are right next to him. Jason hollers at the side of David's head and points to the stage. David nods vigorously and gives him the thumbs-up sign.

"What're you talking about?" Mark shouts near Jason's ear. He puts his hand on Jason's shoulder and Jason leans down so that their cheeks almost touch.

"Dancing!" Jason yells gleefully, then grabs Mark's wrist and tows him through the crowd. He doesn't let go until they're next to David, right in front of the stage on the other side of the room.

The alcohol's starting to hit, settling like a soft thickness in Mark's head, and he's a little unsteady. He finishes the last beer and puts the empty bottle on the stage, one in a thick, gleaming line of glass. The music's so loud it's like he can hear it in his blood. For a minute he just closes his eyes and feels it: _bang, bang, bang._ Thumping inside him like a second heart.

Jason tugs on Mark's wrist, trying to pull him onto the floor, but he only smiles and shrugs when Mark shakes his head. Mark watches as Jason goes to join David, who's already dancing with his eyes closed as if he's alone.

The dance floor is huge, and for a while Mark just stands there and watches Jason. Jason's flushed and grinning, and when the chorus of the song comes he tilts his head back and screams it with everyone else. He keeps catching Mark's eye and making 'come here' motions, and Mark knows that pretty soon Jason will get impatient and just yank him away from the stage. But right now Mark just wants to watch him. Jason's not an awesome dancer--David's better than he is--but he's laughing and singing along with the music and he's so happy that it makes him beautiful.

The next time Jason smiles at him, Mark goes to join him.

Just as he gets there the girl from the line outside pushes her way up to them. She grins at Mark, ignores David completely, and goes right to Jason and puts her hand on his shoulder to get his attention. He smiles at her and leans down and she speaks directly into his ear. When she's finished speaking they both laugh, and she moves her hand to the back of his neck.

Mark turns to go back to the stage, but Jason grabs his wrist. His easy smile just kind of hangs there, but he leans in close so Mark can hear him. "This is Yolanda. She was the girl right in front of us. Isn't that a great name? Yooo-Laaan-Daaa." He stretches out the syllables, making Mark wince as he shouts them at the side of his head. "She's here from Buffalo!"

"I love Toronto!" Yolanda throws her head back and whoops.

"Hi," Mark says to her. He's sure she's here because of the drinking age. She flicks a smile at him, then leans in and yells something at Jason that Mark can't hear. She still has her hand on Jason's neck.

David pulls another cigarette from his pack, stuffs it in his mouth and lights it. He sucks the smoke in a few times, watching Yolanda with narrow, greedy eyes. He offers her a cigarette and smiles when she takes it.

The music changes finally, and the high-pitched wail of the guitar intro to Money for Nothing weaves out of the speakers. Yolanda whoops again and uses her hand on his nape to tug him towards her as she starts to dance. She dances with him like that, with one hand still clutching him and looking up into his eyes. She holds the cigarette near her hip, pointing away from her tight jeans like a warning beacon. David dances near them both as if Yolanda isn't even there.

Mark goes back to the stage and leans against it until he can feel the hard edge digging into him. He watches Yolanda's lip-glossed smile as she sings, that's the way you do it to Jason's face as if it's a love song just for him, and Jealousy throbs in him like synthesized beat of the music.

Yolanda stops staring at Jason's face long enough to notice that Mark isn't with them, and she keeps smiling and makes a beckoning gesture with the hand holding her cigarette, scattering glowing ashes around the other dancers in the crowd. When Mark doesn't move she lets go of Jason and walks over to him. She slaps her arm around Mark's shoulder and shouts, "Don't you wanna dance?" into his ear. Her breath is sweet from the cheap shooters at the bar.

He shakes his head but she grabs his arm and yanks him hard enough that he has to stumble after her or fall. She pulls him into the group that way, so that when he gains his balance again he's right between David and Jason.

So Mark dances. He's just drunk enough that he doesn't really mind. 

Yolanda smiles at Mark, but then she puts her hand on Jason's shoulder and dances staring up into his eyes.

The crowd moves thickly, hot around him. The dancers are packed together like mice. A stranger's shoulder accidentally hits Mark in the back, and Mark wheels off balance, stumbling into Jason. Jason's elbow jabs Mark's arm before Jason can move it away and it hurts, but Jason twists out of Yolanda's grip to grab him by his upper arms. He sets Mark upright then holds him long enough to make sure he's steady and won't fall again.

Mark grins back at him. His arm still hurts, but Jason's holding him and that's worth any kind of pain. Mark will wear the bruises like love.

But Yolanda's drunk too, and when she playfully shoves Mark away from her claim on Jason, Mark falls against David. David whirls, startled out of rhythm, and his cigarette grazes like a knife slash across Mark's hand.

Mark retaliates without thinking, just wanting to get the burning away from him. He plants his palms against David's chest and shoves him as hard as he can. 

David crashes backward into a group of dancers then falls onto the floor. They cry out in surprise and anger as they surge out of his way. Mark can hear Jason shout but not what he says.

Mark stands with his hands in tight fists at his sides, watching as David pulls himself off the floor.

"What the fuck did you do that for?" Mark can see David's ready to fight—he started this night angry and now Mark's finally given him a way to hit back.

Mark retreats instinctively. His step takes him into Jason, who stops him with a hand on his back.

"What the hell did you do that for?" Jason sounds almost like David, except that he's more confused than angry. Behind him Mark can hear Yolanda asking what happened. Then David's fist is twisting into Mark's t-shirt, his bared teeth close enough that for a crazy second Mark thinks David's going to bite him.

He raises his hands to protect himself but David's faster. Mark's on his knees with his palms warm with blood before he's even sure what happened. He can hear Yolanda's tiny shriek behind him but he doesn't know where Jason is until Jason kneels next to him, his face blurry through Mark's watering eyes. He can just make out David towering over him, waiting for Mark to stand.

"Are you all right?" Jason's eyes are wide, colorless in the semi-dark of the club. His hand on Mark's arm is warm as a cigarette without the pain.

Mark swallows blood so he can answer, and suddenly he feels so sick he knows if he doesn't get up immediately he's going to vomit.

He scrambles away from Jason in the darkness, feeling people's shoes under his hands before he can climb to his feet. The music is reeling inside him now, and he's so dizzy he can't walk straight. Blood is running in thick, boiling gouts down his chin, his neck, slick as sweat until it soaks into his shirt. He's gulping air but it's too hot to calm his stomach, and he can taste the bile pressing against the back of his throat by the time he manages to push his way into the washroom. 

He collapses to his knees in a cubicle and gags over the toilet until there's nothing coming out of his mouth but spit. He slumps and rests his head against the cool, damp of the porcelain. It helps a little. 

Someone nudges the sole of Mark's foot, and he forces his eyes open and turns his head. Jason is standing there blocking the open cubicle, beautiful and untouched by the grime around him.

"You're a major mess," Jason says. He shakes his head which makes Mark dizzy again, so he closes his eyes. He can hear Jason gingerly stepping into the cubicle with him, avoiding walking on his legs or hands. Mark opens his eyes again when he feels Jason shaking him gently by the shoulder. "C'mon," he says quietly, "get up so I can clean you." Jason helps him up, flushes the toilet and closes the lid, then holds Mark steady while he sits down.

Jason goes back out, and Mark watches through half-closed eyes as Jason grabs a handful of paper towels and soaks them under the tap. When Jason comes back he wipes Mark's face. The wet paper is freezing but it feels wonderful, and Mark just tilts his heavy head back and lets Jason clean him.

"You're fucking covered in blood," Jason says. "I think your nose is busted." He keeps going back to the sink and the paper towel dispenser until Mark's face is raw and cold. Then Jason holds Mark's arm so he won't fall and they go together to the sink. "Rinse your mouth," Jason orders. Mark does, swishing and spitting and swishing and spitting long after the sour acid taste is gone. All the time he can feel Jason right beside him, calm and warm and clean; his presence as big as the world.

"You shouldn't've done that," Jason says over the sound of running water. "You know what David's like."

Mark nods, feeling the room sway around him. "He's an asshole," he says.

"You pushed him," Jason says.

Mark sniffs. All he can smell is blood. "I got burned by his cigarette. He didn't have to fucking whale on me."

Jason nods. "Yeah," he says. "He's probably feeling bad about that." He takes a breath. "Give me a sec to find him. I'm sure he'll want to make sure you're okay--"

"I don't give a shit about David," Mark says tiredly. He carefully turns away from the mirror and leans against the sink. "He's a dick. I'm not going clubbing with you anymore if he comes."

"Come on, Mark," Jason says, sighing. He runs his fingers through his hair. "Don't be like that. I…Look. I know he can be a complete asshole sometimes. But I've known him since kindergarten. And you've seen his folks!" Jason's expression is imploring. "I'm his best friend." He spreads his hands helplessly. "What am I meant to do, Mark? Tell him to just fuck off? I can't do that."

Mark wipes his nose with the side of his hand. At least it's stopped bleeding, mostly. "What about me?"

Jason steps closer. He tilts his head down a little so he can look into Mark's eyes and puts his hand on Mark's shoulder, right at the curve where it meets his neck. Mark's tee-shirt is wet with blood and water from the sink, and Jason's hand is so warm it's a shock. "You're my best friend too," he says.

Mark swallows. He puts his hand on the back of Jason's neck just like Yolanda did on the dance floor. "I don't want to be your friend," he says, then pulls Jason's mouth down to his and kisses him.

It's not smooth or hot. Mark's lips are chapped from the cold and dry from breathing through his mouth, and they catch and drag on Jason's. Mark's nose hurts like hell and he can barely breathe. Jason's mouth is open in surprise, nothing else. His hand is stiff as a vise on Mark's shoulder. Mark keeps kissing him, holding on to Jason's neck so Jason won't get away. The last thing Mark expects is that Jason will kiss him back, so when Jason's lips move and he sighs into Mark's mouth, at first Mark doesn't get it. And then Jason's other hand slides through Mark's hair to cup the back of his head, and Jason's lips are hot and smooth and this is real, this is Jason claiming him in return.

And then the door creaks behind them and Jason shoves Mark away. 

Mark's elbow cracks into the porcelain edge of the sink. The room lurches around him and Mark grits his teeth so he won't throw up from the pain or the despair that tastes like bile in his mouth. The last thing Mark sees of Jason is the horror on his face before Mark realizes that David's the one who just came in, who's standing there staring at both of them. And then Mark stumbles to the door and pushes his way past David and back into the thick, hot sea of dancers. He shoulders his way through the crowd to the stairs, only remembering his vest when the main entrance opens and lets in a blast of wind.

Mark gives his ticket to the coat check girl and then has to waste time sending her back to get his vest instead of Jason's jacket. Mark thrusts his arms through the sleeves and doesn't bother to zip it up before he leaves. He ducks around the bouncer and all the people in line shivering with the cold, and then he's free and away and walking as fast as he can. He doesn't know if David saw them or not, doesn't know if David's going to come after him. He doesn't want to find out what David would do.

The nearest subway's on Queen Street. It's barely early enough for the trains to still be running and it'll be warm, but Mark keeps going. He's breathing with his mouth open, sucking the freezing air right into his lungs. It hurts his teeth and makes him cough, and his whole head hurts like he's got a stone lodged right under his eyes. He zips up his vest while he walks, but he's already started shivering again. He knows he should turn around and go back to the subway, but he just keeps walking.

He's going past City Hall when he hears someone running behind him and calling his name. 

Mark whirls with his heart pounding, but it's Jason, not David.

The square surrounding the building is concrete, sparse and cold in the November night, ringed by benches surrounding an ornamental pond that has fountains in summer and in winter is used for skating. The rink is empty this late at night; the only people there are Mark and Jason.

Mark turns and starts walking again. He hears the thumping footfalls as Jason runs faster.

"Mark! Mark, come on! Come on, slow down already! Please?"

Mark doesn't, but Jason catches up anyway. He puts his hand on Mark's shoulder.

Mark twists around. "Get away from me!" He shoves Jason harder than he did to David. Jason grunts as he falls backwards onto the icy sidewalk.

Mark stands over him, fists clenched so hard that his hands are shaking.

Jason rubs his chest where Mark hit him. He's breathing hard from running all the way from Peter Street, heaving out blasts of steam. His cheeks are pink and his eyes are very wide and pale blue.

"I'm sorry, okay?" Jason says, except the words sound more like an accusation.

"Fuck you," Mark snarls. "You kissed me back. You kissed me! Then you treat me like I'm fucking _raping_ you?"

"It's not like that!" Jason climbs to his feet, looking shocked and angry. He's still rubbing his chest. "David was coming in! He could've saw us!"

"And then what? Called you 'fag'? You let him say it all the fucking time!"

"That's 'cause I'm not, Mark!" Jason shouts back. 

Mark backs up a step. He's shaking harder with fury than cold. "And I am, right? That's why it's okay to kiss me as long as no one sees it?"

"No." Jason scoops his hair back with his fingers. "Look," he says, calm like he's grinding the words through his teeth. "You don't understand. This isn't…what we did…it's not _normal_ , okay? It's not…David or someone could've seen us and--and thought that's who we are."

"Fuck you." Mark's so angry he can't find any other words. He wipes his nose again and his hand comes away with a smear of blood. His heart's beating so fast it hurts. "It is who I am."

Jason rubs one of his eyes. "Mark..."

"You kissed me back," Mark says.

Jason nods. "I know. I know. I'm sorry."

"You're sorry," Mark repeats. His voice feels like lead. "You touch me all the time--you gave me your fucking _jacket_ \--you kissed me and now you're _sorry?_ You son of a bitch."

"I am!" Jason yells. "I am sorry! I am! What else can I say? What else do you want from me?"

"I want _you!_ " Mark explodes. "I thought you wanted me too! How could you do that to me?" He stalks forward again, coils his hands back into fists. "How could you do that to me?"

"I'm sorry," Jason says again. He looks stricken. "I'm really, really sorry. I didn't--I never wanted to do anything to you."

"Well you did," Mark says. His nose is still bleeding. He wipes it with his palm.

"Here." Jason pulls a wad of paper towel out of his pocket and offers it to Mark. Mark takes it wordlessly and presses it to his nose. His face is aching and he knows that's it's partly because he's trying not to cry. The humiliation burns like the cold.

"Do you want to go to the emergency room?" Jason asks him.

Mark shakes his head.

"You should," Jason says. "I really think your nose is broken."

Mark closes his eyes, takes a breath. "Just go, Jason. Go find David or something. Just get the fuck away from me."

Jason doesn't leave. "David's going to crash at my place." He takes a step closer like he wants to touch Mark, but he doesn't. "You really should go to the emergency room. Come on, Mark. Please." He looks at his watch. "The subways have stopped running anyway." He smiles hopefully. "At least we can get warm, eh?"

Mark takes a deep breath through his mouth. He can feel the paper towel getting wet. "Fine," he says.

"Awesome." Jason almost smiles.

Mark doesn't return it. He starts walking.

"I'm really sorry," Jason says after a while. They've been walking in heavy, icy silence. His voice is very quiet. "I just want to be normal."

"I know," Mark says.

"You're still my best friend," Jason says.

Mark takes the paper towel from his nose. It's soaked with cooling blood. He drops it on the street then wipes his hands on his jeans.

"I love you," he says.

Jason swallows and closes his eyes for a second. They're liquid when he opens them, and he looks away.

"Me too," he says, so softly that Mark almost doesn't hear him.

They walk on through the November night. Side by side but never touching.

 

END


End file.
